


The Pie Maker Next Door

by MothMeetsFlame



Series: Stuff Your Pie Hole: The Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hunters, Dean Loves Pie, High School Student Dean, M/M, National Raspberry Cream Pie Day, Neighbors, One Shot, Pie Maker Cas, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothMeetsFlame/pseuds/MothMeetsFlame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shot in a series of unrelated one shots. </p><p>The first time Dean meets Castiel Novak, the man is standing in the doorway with a freshly made pie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pie Maker Next Door

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a post on tumblr that had been reblogged so many times, I couldn't find the original source. It pretty much went along the lines of "Dean keeps asking his neighbor, Cas, to make him pie because Cas makes them taste so awesome. Dean moves away, and admits to Cas that he has a huge crush on the guy, but he's too young even for a kiss. Dean returns years later, wanting his kiss, and it ends with sex." For once (holy crap! am I possessed?) there is no smut. I didn't follow the prompt exactly, but it definitely inspired this post, so I'm crediting it. 
> 
> WARNING: haha! Just kidding :) Nothing to warn you about. 
> 
> Happy Pie Day, all! Enjoy ;)

The first time Dean met Castiel Novak, the man stood in the doorway, talking to his mom with an awkward look on his face.

“Oh, Dean,” his mom called. “Come meet the neighbor. Castle, was it?”

“Castiel,” the man corrected.

His mother smiled sheepishly and waved Dean over. “Castiel, this is my son, Dean.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s mind went blank. Blue eyes met his and held them unabashedly. A slow blush crawled its way to his face, and Dean couldn’t do anything but mutter a quick, “hi,” too embarrassed to say more than that.

“I have brought you a pie,” Castiel said, handing a dish to his mother.

“How sweet of you,” she gushed. “Come on it. I’ll put some coffee on and serve a slice.”

Castiel shuffled his feet a little and clasped his hands in front of him. “No thank you, Mrs. Winchester. I have work to do at home. I merely wished to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “Well, thank you.”

Castiel nodded his head in acknowledgement of the thanks and turned to leave, eyes catching Dean’s once more. He didn’t look away as he said, “it was nice to meet you all.”

“You too,” he choked out.

When Castiel was gone, Dean took a deep breath and shivered, the movement trailing all the way down to his quivering groin. He didn’t understand the reaction, not completely. Didn’t know that he could have feelings for someone that wasn’t a girl. So he shook it off, blamed it on the aftereffects of watching the cheerleaders practice after school and skipped upstairs to his room as if nothing had happened.

Dean woke up the next morning with wet sheets, the sound of Castiel’s voice— _hello, Dean_ —ringing in his ears, and the taste of his raspberry cream pie on his tongue.

 

* * *

 

The second time Dean met Castiel Novak was two days after their first meeting. Glass dish in hand, Dean rang the doorbell. His feet shifted nervously and he absentmindedly tapped his fingers to _Smoke on the Water_ , just waiting for his neighbor to answer the damn door already.

Dean’s heart stuttered in his chest when Cas opened the door, looking at him curiously. The man had no problem staring him right in the eye, not looking away for even a moment despite Dean’s discomfort.

“Dean,” Cas greeted.

“Um…” Dean couldn’t remember why he’d come over in the first place.

“Come in,” the man said. He opened the door wider and waved Dean inside.

The place was bigger than he’d originally expected from the outside, and most of that downstairs was taken up by a massive kitchen.

“Wow,” he said, staring at the industrial looking equipment attached to every wall. It looked more like a factory than a real kitchen, but Dean was entranced with the sight. He’d obviously interrupted something because the counter was littered with flour, and there were balls of dough to the side, one of them half-rolled out on a sheet of wax paper.

Cas grabbed a long apron off of a hook and draped it over his shoulders. It looked uncomfortable over his slacks and button-up, but Cas acted as if the clothing was normal to be cooking in. Seeing as it was the same thing he’d been wearing when he’d come over the other day and when Dean had seen him walking through the neighborhood and checking his mail and mowing his lawn and carrying boxes out to a waiting truck, he must have been used to it.

Not that Dean had been stalking him or anything. Just that… they were neighbors. It was hard _not_ to see him.

Cas seemed in his element in the kitchen, though. He wasn’t the socially inept bachelor Dean had seen in the last few days. Here, he looked downright comfortable.

“What is all this?” Dean asked, breaking the silence.

“This is my business,” Cas informed him.

“You… make pies?” Dean still remembered the pie he’d brought over. Despite his dad’s assurances that his mom made the best pie in the world and that nothing could compare, Dean was sure he was just being nice. The raspberries were fresh, just sweet enough not to need sugar, plump and perfectly ripe, and the cream filling was light and just the right amount of sweetness to compliment the fruit.

“I do,” Cas confirmed. He finished spreading the dough into a near perfect circle and then rolled it up in the wax paper, setting it aside with a small pile of similar looking bundles.

“That’s so cool.” Dean smiled at the sight of the pies in the large oven, the smell finally catching his attention. They weren’t ready yet, so it was still subtle, but Dean suddenly wanted to stay long enough to watch them come out.

“Is there a reason you stopped by?” Cas asked him, not unkindly.

“Oh, um… yeah.” Dean lifted the pie dish. “My mom asked me to bring this over. Your pie was amazing by the way.”

Cas smiled. “I’m glad. Go ahead and set it by the sink. I will put it up later.”

 

* * *

 

Dean loved to watch Castiel in his kitchen. His hands always worked while they talked, rolling dough or cutting fruit or working the machines that Dean became familiar with over the year they’d known each other. Cas had a habit of sampling the fruit, and Dean had come to try things he would never have thought of as appetizing if it wasn’t for Cas’ persistence.

They hardly ever talked about anything important, not about how he was doing in school or how Cas’ business was going, though Dean assumed it was going well since he’d claimed once to produce hundreds of pies everyday. Most of their conversation revolved around food, but Dean came to know the man anyway.

Cas held nothing but contempt for meat pies of any kind, preferring things that were sweet. He’d gotten it from his brother, Gabriel, who owned a chain of toy stores across Kansas and had a habit of coming up with ‘inventive’ new pie flavors that he continuously requested from his little brother. Cas was the youngest of eight—four brothers and three sisters—and he was practically raised by them, his parents gone since he was a child. Pie was something that made him happy, and so he’d made it his life.

He also had a penchant for teaching, and Dean learned everything there was to know about Cas’ techniques for making the best pies Dean had ever tasted.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean greeted, tossing his book bag by the door and taking his usual perch on the stool by the counter where he could see the entire operation, but not get in Cas’ way.

“Dean,” the man greeted. There was something in his tone that told Dean something was going on.

“You okay?”

“I have a large quota to fill today,” Cas explained, his hands flying over the cutting board, and Dean had to wonder how he didn’t cut himself with how quickly the blade moved. “The website counter glitched somehow and did not cut the orders off until they had reached nearly double my normal quota.”

Dean grimaced. Cas hardly ever left his kitchen as it was. With the double amount of orders to fill, he’d be there all night. “I can help,” Dean offered. “I know practically everything about making pies now.”

Cas shook his head before Dean even finished his offer. “I cannot have you touching the food or else I am at risk of losing my license.

“Okay…” Dean turned pensive. “I can fold boxes then. It always takes you forever, and it’s something even a monkey couldn’t mess up.”

Dean held his breath, waiting for an answer.

“Alright,” Cas agreed. “I have three hundred orders left to fill. Fold and stack the boxes for them, and when the pies come out, I’ll box and you can mark them.”

Dean’s smile was contagious. “We’ll have it done in no time.”

He grabbed the first set of cut and printed cardboard and walked over to the storage area where Cas usually kept his supplies. There was an unoccupied shelf that stretched out long enough for Dean to stack them, so he settled himself near it, happy that he could keep Cas in his sight while he worked.

 _Heaven Sent_ was written in embellished lettering on each box. Watching Cas, Dean could almost believe it. Pies weren’t the manliest thing he could think of, but the professional way in which he wielded the cutlery and the utterly focused gaze gave him an intense look that Dean found himself drawn to time and time again.

Outside, in the real world where he had his family and friends, things were simple. They weren’t always easy. Just the other day, he’d almost bombed his history exam, and don’t even get him started on math class. But they were always simple. He hung out with his friends and pined after cheerleaders and stuck up for Sammy when the dweeb got in trouble.

When he was with Cas, it was like the whole world had been tossed on his head.

Sometimes, when Cas smiled, Dean’s mouth went dry like even the simple action of producing saliva was completely beyond him. And when he reached out to Dean with a piece of fruit in his hand, juices dripping down his gloved fingers, Dean found himself drawn to the liquid as if it was the elixir of life. Every day when he walked through the door to find Cas in the kitchen, the smell of pie in the air around him, he smiled automatically even if he’d been nothing but pissed off and irritable all day.

Dean didn’t know what it meant. All he knew was that he wanted to spend as much time as possible with Cas.

 

* * *

 

The last time Dean had seen Castiel Novak, he had to fight to keep the tears out of his eyes. Two years they’d lived next to each other. They’d talked through thousands of pies. They’d laughed at a million jokes. And even though Dean was barely even old enough to drive, he knew that he had become Cas’ best friend in that small amount of time.

Cas had become much more than that to Dean, not that the man knew that.

“I’m gonna miss you, man” Dean said.

Cas didn’t say anything. He wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders and held him tight in a hug. Dean didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay in Lawrence, and he wanted to stay with Cas.

“When do you leave?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

Cas nodded and pulled away. He held Dean by the shoulder and stared him right in the eye like he always did, never ashamed of anything someone might find there.

“Take care of yourself, Dean,” Cas said. He turned away and walked into the kitchen. Anyone else would have thought he was unworried, that he wasn’t all that interested in the fact that he’d likely never see Dean again. Dean knew otherwise. Cas grabbed an apple from the pile and cut into it, chopping it into perfect slices, and adding it to the pile he’d already finished chopping, making it overflow.

“Cas?”

Cas looked up, expression blank.

“I’ll see you again, okay?”

Cas smiled. “Of course.”

Dean didn’t leave it at that. He walked into the kitchen right alongside Cas. From day one, he’d known not to enter, that this was Cas’ private space. But he only hesitated for a split second before he stood on his tiptoes and pressed a light kiss to the man’s cheek.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

 

* * *

 

Dean stood on the doorstep of an unobtrusive house that looked rather small from outside. The lawn was green and trim, if a little overgrown, and the doorbell was too tiny to have him so nervous. Glass dish in hand, Dean pressed the button, flinching at the chime that let the owner know someone was there.

Five years was a long time. The mailbox still said Novak, but for all Dean knew, the man was married or dating or had gained a hundred pounds and became an alcoholic. He could be a shut in with a thousand cats or in debt and just days from declaring bankruptcy. Cas could have lost his sense of wonder at the smallest of things. The laugh lines on the sides of his eyes could have been covered by worry and fear.

As a teenager, he didn’t have any understanding of how people changed, but as an adult he couldn’t keep his mind from spinning tales of depression and failure and a million other things that could have changed his best friend for the worst.

The door opened, and then Dean was face to face with the person who’d helped him grow into the man he had become. It was because of Cas that he never lost himself to the bustle of everyday life, that he’d found himself in something simple. He was the reason that Dean could look anyone in the eye, the reason that Dean wasn’t ashamed to be who he was.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said. He couldn’t help but smile at the man. Cas was a little older. The laugh lines were deeper. His hair was just a little greyer. But the way his crystal blue eyes bored into his own, brow creased with confusion just before shock set in, was one hundred percent Cas.

“Hello, Dean,” he said. His voice was just as deep as he remembered, and it went straight through him, making goose bumps rise on his arms. “Come in.”

Dean walked into the house, happy to see a counter of half-chopped fruit right next to small bundles of rolled up dough. The unmistakable smell of pie drifted to him, bringing with it countless images of after-school conversations sitting at the counter, sampling fruit and talking with Cas.

“How have you been?” Cas asked him.

“I’ve been good. I, uh… I brought you something.” He lifted the dish and handed it to Cas. “Fresh raspberries,” Dean told him.

He watched a slow smile spread across Cas’ face as he recognized the first recipe Dean had learned—a raspberry cream pie, fresh and waiting to be eaten.

“Looks amazing,” Cas said.

“I could say the same about you.”

Cas looked up at him then, and Dean couldn’t stop himself from closing the distance between them. He pushed the pie aside and leaned in the last few inches, surprised to discover that he was taller than Cas now. The thought made him smile.

He leaned down, reading a large amount of desire and a hint of fear in Cas’ eyes, and captured the man’s lips. There was a skeptical second where Dean wondered whether any of this had been a good idea, but then Cas’ mouth was moving with his own, melting into the kiss. Dean wound his arm around Cas’ waist to pull him closer, making them both smile.

Then Dean was pulling back to watch with lust filled eyes. “I’ve been fantasizing about that for years,” Dean admitted.

Cas smiled. “Me too.”


End file.
